Riddle of the Spool
by Tribble Master
Summary: You can't control everything. But this time the choice is in your hands. Sam's been taken into a maze at the dead of night and Dean must find him. To save Sam go to chapter one.
1. Diners and Other Supernatural Oddities

**I looked at the year I joined this sight and had a Holy Crap, Batman! moment. Then I took stock of my life. I'm glad I've stayed here. This community, this world, I have grown with every story. Thank you. **

**This is my 300th story (again, holy crap) and I wanted it to be special. Enjoy. **

**Prompt from ****LeighAnnWallace**

**Oh, and do take care. Choose wisely.  
><em><br>The Riddle of the Spool _**

No matter the time of night, or corner of America you're in, a diner will always be open with a greasy burger on a not-so-clean plate waiting for you served with bitter black coffee. Just enough to keep you running and sometimes a chatty waitress to remind you of civilization before you hit the road again. Sometimes, the farther down the road they appeared, the stranger they got. Nothing noticeable except for a change in the neon color; a flickering of the sign and a few unnoticed cracks.

Daedalus Diner was one of those places; subtly different in an unassuming way with altogether sinister intentions. Dean pulled the Impala to a slow stop in front of the dinner. Sam had fallen asleep at least three hours ago. His head was tilted back and he had one hand resting on the flashlight he had used to read. The pattern they'd been researching was a mess of obituaries and news clippings behind them. Dean smiled as he saw that his little brother still drooled in his sleep. He got out of the Impala as quietly as he could and headed into the diner.

Inside the diner the chipped black and white tiles were stained. It was clear someone had tried to mop the floor but had simply given up. The barstools at the counter were different sizes. Dean ignored them and walked up to the counter. "Hello?" he called out.

A young teenager appeared. He was dressed in ripped blue jeans and a black tee shirt with a name tag that said _Hi! My name is _**Ike. **The back of his shirt had a stylized wing design. Ike was wiping a glass with a dirty rag when he walked through the double doors of the kitchen. "What can I help you with?"

Dean looked over the sleep deprived kid and wondered what it was about him that set off his spidey-sense. "I need two hamburgers. One with no lettuce, just cheese and ketchup. And a big cup of coffee as well as a coke. To go."

Ike nodded slowly. He set down the glass and took out a notepad. After jotting down the order, he looked up at Dean. His eyes had been sky blue once, but now they were empty and devoid of life. "It'll be done soon, sir."

Ike turned away from Dean and limped back to behind the double doors. Dean didn't see it, but he could hear the sound of a chain being dragged with Ike's footsteps. Dean leaned against the bar counter and waited patiently. Still perplexed, he didn't mind the wait. They only had a few more miles into Stone. The little town had a number of disappearances. Some of them were couples, which immediately set off bells signaling sacrifice. All Sam and Dean had to do was figure out was why they were being sacrificed and case solved. Then they could go back to dealing with the fact that Dean had traded his life for Sam's. Or they could just go find another case. Dean infinitely preferred the later.

There was a clattering in the kitchen that caught Dean's attention. There were yelling voices and thrown pans. Before he could react though, Ike came stumbling out. "There's been a slight delay, sir. Your order will be done soon. Please feel free to play anything on the jukebox." He said the lines like a puppet to terrified to say anything other than what the ventriloquist ordered.

Dean looked over at the Jukebox. It was half-heartedly glowing colorfully. There was a dent in its side. Dean looked back at Ike and raised one eyebrow. "Right. Are you sure everything back there is all right?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam sat bolt upright. In the car she sat beside him in a tight red shirt with blue jeans.

"I'm so tired of running." She slouched a little in the driver's seat. Her red shirt was ripped, and her skin was a mixture of bruises.

Sam pressed one hand against his head. This was all wrong. He didn't know this woman, and still she was sitting there. Her hair was greasy and tangled. A fine layer of dirt was over her skin, smudged by claw marks. "He won't let me go. Not until I bring in someone new."

Sam felt a flash in his memory. She was on the missing papers. "I'm sorry… my brother and I will be there soon to save you…"

She let out a hollow little laugh. "Sam," she said quietly, "will you come help me?"

"I am coming." He reassured twisting his body to look at her better. No matter which way he turned look though she seemed to be fading into the fabric of the seat.

"Will you trade places with me?" She looked at him pleadingly. Before Sam had even noticed it she had taken his hand in hers. "Take this. It will help."

A small spool was pushed into his hands. Sam looked down at the golden thread. "Where can I find you?"

"Just promise, please… I am so tired of running."

"You've got to tell me where you are." Sam reached out to touch her but she shied away from his touch.

"He will come for you. I'm sorry."

A sudden rush of pain overcame Sam and he shut his eyes instantly as the blinding white light obscured his vision. It didn't help though, because he could still See.

_Moss covered stone walls premating the air with cold dampness  
>Breath like rot following behind running footsteps<br>A trip around the corner, seeing a place to hide for just for a moment_

When the vision ended, Sam was gasping for breath. Usually he would see a face in his visions but this time he had seen no one, only felt an intense suffocating atmosphere. Sam looked around the car. She was gone.

Sam looked up at the diner entrance and felt his heart beat slow down. Dean had found a place to get food. They must be close to Stone. He reached behind to the back seat and grabbed the missing person reports searching for the girl's face.

Irene Ruth. Disappeared one month ago.

He shook his head sadly and then looked back up at the diner. He wondered what was taking Dean so long. In his hand he realized he was still holding the spool of thread. While he was still staring at the mysterious object he did not see the shadow that fell across his car.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Ike remained absolutely frozen in place. His eyes moved from side to side, then he glanced down. His eyes nearly bored a hole into the floor. Dean looked down too but he could not understand what Ike was trying to imply. Ike looked back at him, clearly disheartened.

"No, sir, everything is fine here."

"Ike get your lazy ass in here and give the goddamn customer the food!" came the roar from the kitchen. "And YOU , old man, get back to cooking."

Ike retreated obediently to the kitchen and came back out. He took Dean's credit card and swiped it slowly. Satisfied with the confirmed charge he handed the food to Dean with shaking hands.

Halfway to the door, Ike called out to Dean. "You forgot your napkins!"

Dean turned around and took them from Ike. "Thanks." He noticed, but did not comment, on the handwriting he saw on the napkins.

"Drive safely." Ike waved him goodbye.

Dean walked out and of the restaurant, eager to be out of sight so he could open up the napkins. When Dean opened the restaurant door he froze. He dropped the balanced mess of takeout bags and drinks as he pitched forward to the car. He accessed the damage to Impala; a dented hood, and a smashed window. Sam was no longer snoring in the front seat. There was a musky smell of dirt, fur, and rot hanging in the air. At 11pm at night there wasn't a soul surrounding the diner at all. Dean glanced over his shoulder at the diner. For one second the lights flickered so only D-E-A-D was illuminated.

Dean felt like he was in a movie theatre. It was like there was an old film reel stuck on repeat in the change room and the scene being projected was replaying itself over and over and then once more. It was tiring to watch it happen so often, to come close to that ending but never reach it. Sam was gone from him, stolen away, again. If it wasn't Sam taken, it would have been Dean. The situation was repeated all to often. What Dean hated most of all was that he wasting precious moments of his last year lookingfor his brother instead of being with him.

Dean cursed and went to pick up the bag of take out. He ripped the bag open and pulled out the napkins. Black sharpie was on all of them, faded and blurred. The top one had the actual message: _The Maze is beneath. _

Dean stalked around to his car and heaved a sigh. There was a lot of work to be done. He opened the door and slid inside. Pieces of Sam's sweatshirt was on the seat along with torn research. Dean flipped through it looking for any hints.

There was nothing but a coat of fine golden dust. Dean checked that his gun was loaded with silver bullets. He put a second gun into his ankle holster, for good measure. He grabbed the flashlight and got out of the car.

_The Maze is beneath. _

Dean wasn't sure what to believe, and he never did have much time for faith. He scouted the edges of the diner looking for anything that could be mistaken for a maze. Or his brother. As Dean followed the side of the building he saw huge hooved tracks.

Dean frowned. The job description never did say it was easy.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam landed on his hands and knees. Behind him (or around him- he couldn't tell) there was something like laughter. It could have been laughter or it could have been cries. Misery had a way of tangling itself around humor all too often. The noise was bloodcurdlingly loud and yet so far away.

He put his hand on the wall next to his head to steady himself. He recoiled as he felt the sticky wetness covering rough stone. Sam turned his head to look at what cold thing he had just put his hand in. The stone wall stretched up before him, covered in moss and vines. Over the stones and moss was something else- blood. It was sticky, but not entirely fresh. The writing was indicative of madness. No sane person would drag their fingers like in such a shaky curvature with dedication to continue message. It must have been agony to rake blood stained hands over the sharp stone.

_You'll never get out ha ha _

The end of the message was cut off abruptly. Sam took in a deep breath and looked around at his surroundings. Water had dripped down from the ceiling and created mud puddles in various places on the dirt floor. There were options in front of him different corridors to take.

In the distance he could hear the laughter restart.

Sam noticed that he was still holding the thread. He sighed and took off running.

**To go to the left, go to chapter two. To go to the right, go to chapter three.**


	2. Two the Left

**Two the Left**

Sam headed off to the left; it was the darker corridor but if he was going to be followed darkness would be his ally. He ran with one hand on the wall next to him to keep himself steady. Sam's leg was still throbbing however from being dropped into the maze.

Something was nagging at the back of Sam's mind. Whatever had thrown him in there had the choice to kill him. But it chose not to. This was a game of chance and death. _Wasn't it always? _he thought miserably. For that one second he stopped paying attention, his foot got caught in a hole. He tripped, and as he fell the golden thread dropped from his fingers.

As it spilled across the floor, it unraveled from the spool. Then the thread reformed into elegant cursive letters. _Ask me anything _it spelled out.

"Why?" was the first thing that came into Sam's mind.

_Ah, the question all questions come from._

"Aren't you going to answer me?" Sam huffed.

_I said you could ask. Nothing more. _

Frustrated, Sam rolled up the string and shoved it back into his pocket. He decided he would have to try it again later. He kept running down the corridor. To his surprise there wasn't a fork waiting for him. It just kept twisting deeper, and deeper. Sam could feel that there was a steady decline in the ground. He was running downhill.

The ground wove and twisted. If Sam ran too fast he would for sure fall over. It took several tumbles and scrapes before he slowed his pace. Eventually he came to another choice. There was a flight of stairs carved into the ground that lead left and a flat plane that went to the right. In the middle of them was a third path.

Sam took a deep breath and headed for the stairs.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean kicked at the ground. It was too dark for him to see anything that wasn't illuminated by the thin beam of his flashlight. He was making progress, but it was painstakingly slow. He was halfway around the side of the building when he thought he heard noises coming from the bushes. He smiled and pulled out his gun.

Caution be damned, he rushed towards the bushes. To his great disappointment there was nothing waiting for him. It had only been a small creature hunting that he had heard. As he turned around he almost tripped on something. Dean raised one eyebrow and he pointed the flashlight down to the ground. Splayed out was a multitude of bodies. There was one skeleton with barely any flesh hanging off it. Then there were fresher corpses. They looked like they'd all been thoroughly chewed on. Some had dual piercings on their side as if they'd been speared by a great set of horns.

The ground rumbled beneath Dean for a moment, grabbing his attention. He heard the faintest sound of laughter, as if it was coming from beneath the ground. Dean's temper flared as he stomped back towards the dinner. There was definitely a death trap under his feet, but he was growing more and more impatient in finding the entrance.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam regretted heading up the stairs. They were steep, for one, and leading him nowhere. Just when he thought he'd reached the end of his rope however he finally reached the top. He let out a breath of relief when the ground plateaued. There were no choices this time.

It was simply a very large round room. It smelled of greasy diner food mixed with musk. The ground was littered with tufts of hair. In one corner was a nest, of sorts. There were matted blankets and bones. Sam looked up and saw a flat door on the celling. He smiled and reached up to pull on the brass handle.

He had to stand on the tips of his toes to grab it. He used his body weight to pull himself up as he pulled it down. All he managed to do, however, was make his arms sore. It would not budge. Sam frowned. It was locked from the outside.

Things that went into the maze were meant to stay in the maze.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean nearly tripped on it at first.

The chain was weaved in and out of the dirt and grass. He followed it and saw that the chain was bolted into the wall on two points, and in the middle where the chains meant was a huge door sunk into the side of the building. The chains connected through the handle, set into place by a large padlock.

Dean looked around to make sure he was alone. He was preparing to make noise. A lot of noise actually, the kind of noise that usually meant things were breaking. Just as he was about to return his attention to the door something caught his eye-

The backdoor to the kitchen was only a few feet away.

**To go into the kitchen and snoop around go to chapter five. To break the chain and enter the maze go to chapter four. **


	3. Right Away

**Three, Right Away**

Sam turned to the right and took small tentative steps forward. He was cautious in his exploration of the maze. There was so many ways things could go wrong. The path he took now was lighted, nothing to bright, but just enough that he could see his way. It was better, he assumed, to know what was coming after him. Something wickedly smart, he assumed. The other characteristics he could only guess at. The corridors were wide, and a foot taller than his head. Whatever it was it would be insanely hard to kill.

More importantly, he realized, it enjoyed the hunt. That thought terrified him more than anything else down in the maze.

Sam was so busy looking around him for himself for danger; he failed to see the obstruction in his path. He tripped and fell beside the man lying there. He was sitting too causally against the wall with his legs outstretched. There was no reaction Sam's presence that disturbed. Nothing could wake a dead man.

There was blood on his hands. Blood everywhere, actually. But the blood on his hands told Sam that this was the mad man who'd left him a message. The other blood also left a message: a very vivid and detailed explanation of the fate that would consume him if he didn't hurry.

The dead man had ran and ran and ran and tripped so many times, but it hadn't slowed him down. Sam could see that by his feet, and his torn pants. There was nothing Sam could do now but move on.

He noticed beside himself there was the spool of thread. He'd forgotten it was in his pants at all.

Now it lay on the ground twisting and writhing like a snake. When it finally stopped moving, Sam understood. It was a long, spidery message. _Ask me anything. _

Sam stared at it blankly for a moment. This was unusual, even by his exceptionally high standards. "Who created this maze?"

_Daedalus__, but that is not the answer you seek. _

Sam ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He hated riddles. There was no point to them. He needed answers, he was sick of these games. "What hunts me?"

_A very old creature with a lust for power. _

"Are you going to tell me anything worthwhile?" he hissed at the spool.

_Now that's a good question. _

Sam snatched up the thread angrily. He could ask it more questions later. Judging by the corpse beside him, the game was going to last quite a long time. As he took off at steady pace, there came a noise. It froze his blood.

The laughter he had early wasn't just madness form a victim. It was coming from the creature. It was mirth, he knew that now, it was sheer delight to have someone new in the maze. The sorrow though… he still couldn't place it. That's what truly scared him.

It turned out the path he took was very short. He came to another fork after only ten minutes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean slammed the trunk of his baby down. He glared at his surroundings, daring them to challenge them. He had a gun in one hand, a flashlight in another. There was a knife attached to his belt. A spare gun in an ankle holster. Ammunition hidden in his coat. Dean had a very simple rule in his life: You don't fuck with his family.

He walked towards the diner with heavy footsteps and a low growl. It was too dark for him to see anything that wasn't illuminated by the thin beam of his flashlight. The side of the building was covered in growth and dirt. The building was obnoxiously normal. He was certainly making progress, but it was painstakingly slow. He was halfway around the side of the building when he thought he heard noises coming from the bushes. He smiled and pulled out his gun.

Caution be damned, he rushed towards the bushes. To his great disappointment there was nothing waiting for him. It had only been a small creature hunting that he had heard. As he turned around he almost tripped on something. Dean raised one eyebrow and he pointed the flashlight down to the ground. Splayed out was a multitude of bodies. There was one skeleton with barely any flesh hanging off it. Then there were fresher corpses. They looked like they'd all been thoroughly chewed on. Some had dual piercings on their side as if they'd been speared by a great set of horns.

The ground rumbled beneath Dean for a moment, grabbing his attention. He heard the faintest sound of laughter, as if it was coming from beneath the ground. Dean's temper flared as he stomped back towards the dinner. There was definitely a death trap under his feet, but he was growing more and more impatient in finding the entrance.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam was losing track of the twists and turns he had taken. Right-right-left-right-left? Who knew anymore. His original plan of caution and patience went to hell quickly. If he planned on retracing his steps- well, that wouldn't be happening. Sam snapped his fingers as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

He dropped to one knee and took the golden thread from his pocket. Out of respect he gingerly set it down onto the ground. It stretched out lazily, waiting for his question. "Do you know where the door out of here is?"

_Oh, clever boy. I'll be sad when you die._

"Please." Sam felt silly pleading with a spool of thread. "You must know."

_Take a left at the next fork. _

Sam bit his lip. He didn't want to offend the thread but these vague answers were driving him mad. "Thank you." He said softly.

The thread seemed to wiggle in a playfully arrogant matter. It wound itself up. Sam took placed it into his pocket. He hurried to the next fork. There, he turned left. Instead of being a short distance and another fork however, this choice lead him straight.

It seemed like a mile, but it could have been longer. When Sam reached the end he noticed that the roof had a slant. There was a door over his head. It looked like a cellar door. He could even feel a breeze, a faint almost nonexistent breeze, floating down. He didn't have to reach too far to place his palms against it. Sam pushed and heard only the rattle of chains but the door did not budge.

It was locked from the outside. Sam suddenly understood.

It was trapped here as well.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean walked out of the bushes and stormed towards the building. It would be useless to shoot at the building, he knew. But that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun. Frustration had building up inside him for so long now. That avoidance of the inevitable fate he'd thrown himself into hung heavy on his shoulders. He'd done it so Sam could live, not die in some crap diner.

The building and its crimes, suspected and otherwise, could slide. For now.

As Dean approached the building his light swung over something silver. Underneath the vines was a chain weaved so artfully few people would ever see it. He followed it and saw that the chain was bolted into the wall on two points, and in the middle where the chains meant was a huge door sunk into the side of the building. The chains connected through the handle, set into place by a large padlock.

Dean looked around to make sure he was alone. He was preparing to make noise. A lot of noise actually, the kind of noise that usually meant things were breaking. Just as he was about to return his attention to the door something caught his eye-

The backdoor to the kitchen was only a few feet away.

**To go into the kitchen and snoop around go to chapter five. To break the chain and enter the maze go to chapter four. **


	4. Descent

**Four: Descent **

No.

He was not a patient man. Especially not when there was immediate danger. Actually, scratch that. He was not patient, this is true. Especially when there was an opportunity for immediate violence, irrevocable bloodshed, and scars that would never fully heal. It was at these moments he knew he was alive. It was those moments in-between that he felt like a walking corpse.

Dean smiled thinly. He got down on his knees and made sure the padlock was clear. He used his gun to hit it straight in the center, through the key hole. It took two shots to break it. The chains were heavy, strong enough to drown a carnival's Strong Man. It took Dean a good ten minutes to drag them away.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam figured it was useless to stay beside a locked door. He was just as trapped as the elusive creature. He wound his way around another set of traps. The thread was humming in his pocket. It wanted attention, it wanted to spit riddles.

That would have to wait.

He reminded himself that this was only a maze and that puzzles were his strong point. When Dean was practicing shooting at tin cans, he played Tetris. Sam did not have the advantage of living inside the stone and grime, but that was okay. He could learn. He could adapt. Sam's ears perked up as he heard a sound like gunshots. He wondered if he could pinpoint the noise in time.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean lowered himself into the maze. It wasn't long drop, and he landed with a feline grace. He looked at the stone walls, the moss, the mud tunnels and his first thought was simply this: _No wonder the diner made such awful food._

There was enough light in the tunnel that he felt comfortable switching off his flashlight. He cocked the gun, loading a bullet into the chamber. He kept it aimed out in front of himself as he rounded the corner. He listened for any sound of life. In the distance, so faintly he thought he was dreaming, he could hear his name being shouted. Dean came up to another fork, just starting to let himself feel some small measure of relief. There were footsteps coming towards him. Dean felt the smallest sense of satisfaction, but stopped dead cold. The footsteps were too heavy. Each step was evenly paced. There was no rush. Prey was so very close.

It rounded the corner and Dean's eyes widened in horror.

He thought it had died, buried in a myth hundreds of years ago. He thought that was never meant to exist. He never thought for one moment he would face the Minotaur. He stood over Dean, with horns just scrapping the ceiling.

It was so much worse in person.

The Minotaur had the legs of a bison, strong powerful and sinewy with hooves. His torso was that of a man. Tight scared skin, muscled a dirty covered in years of grime. There was blood crusted over his chest, under his fingernails, and even some dribbling from his chin. The head was that of a bull. There was a scar across his face. A bite mark on his left ear. There was also burn marks on his wrists from chains. A similar burn mark ran around his neck.

Dean could tell the thing was smiling. The Minotaur could smell he had opened the door to the outside. It was free. Dean was the only thing in the way.

The smell of rot and decay hung off his fur like a lover.

Dean shot his gun just as the Minotaur charged at him. The bullet pierced the Minotaur's shoulder. Dean fired again. The bullet hit him solidly in the chest but it had very little impact. The Minotaur grabbed Dean and lifted him up by the neck. He huffed, taking in the scent of Dean. He enjoyed the smell of fear.

Very causally it threw Dean against the wall. There was a loud crack as Deans shoulder broke; his arm became useless as it swelled. He groaned and got to his feet. He went for his knife as the Minotaur rushed him again. This time, when he grabbed Dean by the throat he threw him on the ground. The Minotaur looked down on him, and placed on hoof on Dean's chest.

The Minotaur laughed. He was so happy to watch men squirm under his footsteps. And he was even happier now knowing that this was the start. He would be a king soon. People would make sacrifices to him.

He crushed Dean by inches. Dean gasped and squirmed as more and more pressure was applied. He could feel his ribs began to crack, and then one by one break. His heart thumped so hard in his chest. Dean clawed at the Minotaur's leg. With one hand he hardly made a difference. His vision started to go black around the edges.

Dean's head lolled to the side. He saw the corner of one tunnel just out of reach. Everything was out of reach. As his vision went black, he saw someone come through the tunnel. There was noise now, someone was yelling. But it was okay, Dean decided. He was dying. Not because of any deal, not because of something someone had decided. Fate was finally his. It was just a shame it had come so late.

The Minotaur let his foot sink through Dean's chest, crushing his heart. With a twist he smeared Dean's insides on the muddy floor. There was another pathetic human screaming at him just waiting to be speared on his horns. He smiled and let out a wild roar. It was time to move on.

**The End. **

Would you like a cookie? Icarus will fly one to you. Zombie!Dean will bake it.


	5. Breakthrough

**Chapter Five: Breakthrough **

No.

Dean had very little patience but some things deserved caution. The cellar door was hidden for a reason. Perhaps, he wondered, there were things in the maze that were meant to stay there. He moved towards the kitchen entrance. Ike had been afraid for a reason. Certainly that meant the boy knew something.

He took one last look at the cellar door and moved on. He knew without a doubt that that door would take him to Sam. But if it was a maze, there would have to be more than option. Dean walked through the back door of the kitchen without any difficulty. The restaurant, and I use that term loosely, had a very standard kitchen. The health inspector hadn't been by in years. There was a mold growing in the crack by the refrigerator door. The counter tops were clean, but this was only because of the lack of customers.

At the industrial sink there was a very old man washing some of the pots. He was stuck washing one pot, a huge black thing made for stews, repeatedly. It was gleaming. The man's skin was tan and looked like old leather. He had grey stubble with long silver hair. He did not look up when Dean walked in. "Is it that time already? Are you here to return in kind the sins I wrought?"

Dean lowered his gun, slightly. "No. I came for answers."

"How interesting." Daedalus turned to look at him. His eyes darted to an office to the left. "I would advise you to keep your voice down."

"I would advise you," Dean snapped, "to tell me where the hell my brother is."

The old man shook his head sadly. "Dead or dying."

"That's not true." Dean said with such certainty it cut the air.

"I created the maze that lies beneath you. I know what lies in wait there." Daedalus tilted his slightly considering Dean's presence. "But then, it's been so long since I've last been there…"

Dean took another step towards him. There was a bang as the door connecting the register to the kitchen flew open. Ike stood in the doorway. "What the hell are we gonna do if that…" he stopped and took in the scene. "Oh."

"Icarus, this is Dean. He believes he can beat the maze."

"If only." Icarus laughed softly. "The message was meant for you to run."

"How did you…."

Daedalus smiled sadly. "I know many things Dean. The entrance to the maze is right over here, below my feet. If you want you may enter it."

Icarus looked from his father to Dean, then back to his father. "Are you nuts? He has _weapons_, if he," Icarus jerked a thumb at the office, "finds out we're completely absolutely screwed. It's against the fucking rules."

Daedalus didn't break eye contact with Dean. "My son, aren't you tired of this curse? Your sister too, is tangled in this. Have you forgotten so easily? Has living these centuries made you forget where you came from?"

Dean raised one eyebrow. "Where is your daughter?"

Daedalus frowned. "We have each been forced to play our roles. I created the maze, Icarus must choose the sacrifices, and Isabella… she is the only guide permitted to live inside the maze."

Dean looked at Icarus. "I'm going, Ike. You can try and stop me if you want, but you won't win." He nodded to Daedalus. "Show me the entrance."

Daedalus shrugged. "As you wish."

Dean watched as Daedalus undid the three locks covering the trap door and lifted it slowly. "I must close this door after you. Knock three times when you find your brother and I will open it again."

Dean felt an uncomfortable tingle up his spine. This situation was quickly leaving his control. Gritting his teeth, he nodded in acknowledgement to Daedalus and descended down the stairs. When he was gone, each lock was replaced carefully. Finished, Daedalus turned back to cleaning the pot.

"This has to stop." Icarus hissed.

"I agree completely."

"You know what I mean." Icarus grabbed his father by the shoulder and turned him around. "I have lived in this prison since I have been little. Where would we go if we weren't here? You must stop sending would-be-heroes to their death down there. What if one were to succeed?"

"Then we would be free to die in peace." Daedalus pushed his son away. "I gave you one command Icarus. I told you to take your sister away. You didn't run when I told you too. Are you really such a coward?"

"You don't I think I miss her as well? But she's lost. All we can do is live now." Icarus threw his hands in the air. "And _you_ can't give me orders."

"Did your mother die for nothing? Did she give you an opportunity to live just to waste it?"

"Shut up, old man." Icarus snarled turning around. "I'll be in the front. Mind your own damn business."

Daedalus turned back to the pot. It was almost as old as he was. Around it was carved his story, like the vases from his home. Someone should remember them. He glanced towards the door, where the King slept growing rich and fat as the centuries passed. Daedalus was so tired. He prayed to Zeus that this time, he wouldn't be disappointed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam walked until he found a secluded end. It was a dead end, not a smart choice, but it was a place to catch his breath. He took out the golden string and set it down on the ground. The thread arched in the air, as if it was yawning.

_Oh, round two._

"Who are you?" Sam asked quietly.

_My name is unimportant. _

"You must have been important to be sentenced here." Sam said urging her on.

_That was long ago. I am paying the price for my father's sin. _

"Do you know what it is that lives in here?"

_Half bull, half man. It took so many men to trap him._

"A minotaur?" Sam gasped. "But…that would make it practically ancient."

_Not a, The Minotaur. As ancient as I am._

Sam pursed his lips. He leaned against the wall, thinking. The cool dampness of the stones soothed his sore muscles. He was exhausted of all the turns he had taken. The Minotaur must be incredibly patient. "Do you know how to fight the Minotaur?" he asked causally.

_The secret is…_

Sam looked up suddenly as he heard a noise. It was a loud thunk that echoed through the halls. Something new was entering the maze. He snatched up the string without seeing the finished message. He'd been sitting still too long. It was time to move one.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean dropped down into the maze with no pretense of grace. The landing sent a shock through his leg. He regained steady ground after a minute. The room he had landed in was large, and very dark. There was a nest of bones to one side. Tufts of fur, too. The entire room smelled of something rotten. Things in the maze had a way of decaying before you. Like one's sanity, but that was expected to fall apart anyway. Bones, walls, stone, they all end in dust. No, the only surprise the maze held was a _how. _How long could you last? How long can live when he comes for you? How will he kill you?

Dean snapped the barrel of his gun, putting a bullet in the chamber. He didn't want any more surprises. He paused in the doorway of the room and listened. No one was near him so he moved on. He walked down the spiraling stars, up a hallway, down another hallway… Dean could feel that the elevations were changing, but that still didn't give a clue as to just how deep down he was in this mess.

After twists after uncounted turns, he came to another fork in the maze. There was a strange noise in the distance. Almost like nails scraping along the stone walls. He was uncertain about which side he should go to.

That was when the laughter started.

**To go to the left go to chapter seven. To go to the right go to chapter six. To wipe your hand across your brow, and take a deep breath while you consider all the choices you've made right and wrong- keep going. You're doing fine. **


	6. a little bit further and to the right

**Chapter Six: A little bit further and to the right**

_Why not_, Dean thought_, I haven't done anything right so far._

He took a deep breath and marched towards the right corridor. The laughter was echoing all around him. Maybe, he considered, it was in his head. Mad men so often thought they were sane, that Dean wondered if he had been fooling himself all this time. No one else in their right mind would have jumped into this maze. But then, no one had his job.

He tried his best to ignore the moss on the wall. If he stared too at the green slimy stuff too long it would move. _I'm just tired_, he told himself. _Just seeing things is all. _Still, he could hear the hissing of slow movements. It was nearly inaudible. Dean's jaw began to ache, and he realized he had clamped his teeth together a while back. He let some of the tension out of his body, if only to release some on the pain from tense muscles.

Without warning, the laughter stopped. The absence of the overwhelming noise allowed him to hear other details he had missed. There were footsteps coming around the corner. Dean raised his gun.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sam had grown accustomed to playing with the spool in his hand. Just holding it felt like he wasn't alone. He wondered how many people had passed through these hallways. He walked slowly. Instead of trying to outrun thing he was now taking every precaution he could. Sam hoped Dean would enter the maze soon. The _thunk_ he had heard had caught him off guard, but not so much that he lost his wits.

It was when the laughter started up again that his pulse jumped. When the Minotaur laughed, nothing was safe. Sam picked up his pace, eager to put a distance between himself and that awful noise. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

When it finally ended, Sam could focus again on the things around him. There were footsteps he hadn't heard before. They were getting close. He could hear the soft padding nearing him. How did Minotaurs walk? Whatever it was, it was getting close. Too close for comfort.

Sam flattened his back against the wall and waited.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean turned the corner warily. A flash of movement caught him off guard, and then he was being hit. The first blow landed right on his eye, blinding him. The second on his torso. Without thinking, he squeezed the trigger. The loud noise threw him back a little. He couldn't believe one shot had taken down the Minotaur. Then Dean looked down.

Sam had jumped at whatever had moved around the corner, hitting violently. First in the eye, just as Dean had shown him in sparring practice. Then in the chest ("To knock the breath out of them." Dean had explained.) He hesitated though- no Minotaur was this human. He made the realization just as the bullet hit him. The copper shell tore through his lung stayed there. Sam fell back coughing blood. He looked up at Dean and tried to find words.

Dean swore violently then as he made the same realization. He dropped down to Sam's side and took off his coat to wrap some in it. There was nothing Dean could do except get Sam out of there. The ground started to shake as heard heavy footsteps coming his way.

The spool in Sam's hand had fallen from his fingertips.

"It's gonna be okay," Dean said holding Sam to him.

"Make it out of here…" Sam gargled the words. His breathing was too labored to continue.

The golden thread was moving on the ground, in fear and worry it twisted. It stilled itself to write out:

_If only, if only, you had asked the right questions._

**The end. **

**Wow… I have made some bad choices in my life… But you….Wow. You owe Dean a hug. Oh, and here's a pamphlet on gun safety.  
><strong>


	7. It's All You Have Left

**Chapter Seven: It's All You Have Left**

The laughter was inhuman. To sharp, to biting, to actually contain mirth. Dean shuddered and headed to the left. He decided that if nothing had gone right so far, neither would he. He took deep slow breathes. If there was anything he had learned so far, it was that the maze was impossibly large. He needed energy and he needed to move with caution. The corridor he was walking in had no moss on the walls. It was too clean, as if the place had just been cemented.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. He was still clenching the gun solidly in his other hand; he did not want any more surprises tonight. When Dean opened his eyes again, the wall changed. There was moss on the walls. He had been wrong. He blinked again to make sure he was seeing what was real.

There was something in the air that made him feel lightheaded.

Pushing it aside, he trudged on. The farther he walked the more the noise disappeared. Instead there was a new noise now. Much softer, much closer to him. Footsteps. Soft steps, laced with hesitation. Not nearly enough weight in foot falls to belong to a bison. Dean relaxed a little, and allowed himself to feel just a little bit of hope.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Why, oh why, had he chosen to taken refuge in a dead end? There was only one way out of the corridor he was in and he could not deviate from the path laid out before him. The noise he heard before the laughing had begun… it sounded like a door being opened. But now that infernal racket had started up again and he couldn't listen to the subtleties around him. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and pressed on.

He turned right at the corner without even thinking about it. It did not matter at this point anyway. Either the Minotaur would kill him or the laughter would drive him mad. It was only a fact. He was always good at these sorts of things. Researching, coming up with solution, and presenting it neatly. Sam accepted it without worry. Dean would find him or he wouldn't. There was a variable he couldn't account for.

He tensed up when he heard footsteps around the corner. The footfalls were getting nearer. He listened closely to the steps, counting the minuets he had until confrontation. It could be the Minotaur. Or at least, he prayed it wouldn't be the Minotaur. Too soon, too soon…

He stood still, taking a defensive posture.

Dean rounded the corner with his gun at the ready. He relaxed as he saw Sam with his fists raised. "Sam," he breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his gun.

Sam smiled for a brief instant. His brothers furrowed. "Wait… are you trapped in here as well?"

Dean held up his gun. "Only one way out."

Sam held out his hand and Dean tossed it to him. Dean bent down and loosened his second gun from the ankle holster. "And this should help out."

Sam pulled back the receiver, loading a bullet into the chamber. He grinned. "How did you even get in?"

Dean looked over his shoulder. He looked over at Sam. "You wouldn't believe it. Icarus and Daedalus."

"Like the myth?"

"Yeah," Dean gestured for Sam to follow him. "We're stuck in Labyrinth but without the weird music or creepy ass puppets. C'mon, let's keep moving."

Sam followed in next Dean. They kept their eyes out as they explored the various tunnels. As they turned left, right, and right again Sam listed off what he had learned. Dean added in what Daedalus had told him. "Do we even know how to stop this thing?" Dean asked as they turned again. "I mean, we're searching for it but what are we gonna do when we find it?"

Sam snapped. "The spool." He stopped and pulled it out of his pocket. "This has the answers."

Dean looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Sam dropped the spool on the ground. "Just watch."

The spool arced and squirmed as it awoke. It began to twist and turn. "Isabella?" Dean questioned tentatively. He looked up at Sam. "Ike's sister."

_Yes, you have seen him? How is he?_ She arranged herself hurriedly. _Is Dad safe? Do you bring news?_

"Your dad misses you. Your brother wants you to live." Dean said patiently. She didn't need to know the details just yet. There was no need to upset her with the knowledge of her bitter brother, and her broken father.

_So many heroes have come and gone without a word of them…_

Dean looked from the golden string back to Sam. "What's she told you?"

_I'm right here you know. _Isabella huffed. If she could huff; it was hard for her to convey the proper inflection. _I can help, really. We can all live again._

Sam shrugged without looking down. "Riddles."

Dean watched her rearrange herself quickly in garbled messages. "Isabella, I need to you to slow down. What do you know?"

_You only have to ask the right questions._ She spelled out as large as she could to make the message clear. The curse that had stolen her had rules. Everything had rules. Some you just cannot break.

Dean knelt down and looked at the thread. "Okay," he said slowly, forming his words carefully. "I have a question…"

**_To be continued…_**

**To ask: _What spell holds the diner together?_ Go to chapter nine. **

**To ask: _How do I defeat the Minotaur? _Go to chapter eight. **

**To feel your breath catch, your heart beat speed up, the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you realize that there's another sound, closer, and closer and that smell _that _smell of death and rot and something that should have died to long ago should have never lived …go to chapter Ten. It won't hurt. I promise.**


	8. Defeat

**Eight: Defeat**

Dean knelt down and looked at the thread. "Okay," he said slowly, forming his words carefully. "I have a question for you. How do we defeat the Minotaur?"

_No foreplay, how dull. _

"Isabella," Dean pushed.

_Silver. _ _Into his heart._ _Or you could strangle him, make him choke, make him suffer…_

Sam let out a long sigh. "Wait," he ran his hand through his hair. "Where is his heart?"

_Clever boy. Refreshing. _Isabella rolled herself up for a moment and rolled on the ground thoughtfully. _In his left side. Below the ribs. Hades took precaution. _

Dean smirked. "Thank Zeus for small miracles."

Sam shot him a look. Dean tapped his skull. "Never doubt the wisdom of an older sibling."

Isabella froze. She arced, raising her midsection into the air. A ripple ran through her. _You should move._

"Thank you." Sam picked her up gently. She wound herself up gracefully in his palm. When she was safe in his pocket he looked at Dean. "Well, at least now we have a little bit of knowledge."

"About time." Dean growled. He started stomping around. "Where is this freaking thing anyway?"

"It's taking it's time. Enjoying the hunt." Sam's longs strides kept steady pace with Dean's quick steps.

Dean did not like that answer. He stopped short as something caught his ear. He held up his hand and pointed. The vines were moving again. Sam wondered why he hadn't seen it before. They were pointing towards the left. "Trap?" he whispered.

"Trap." Dean agreed heading left, making sure his gun was working okay.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

How long, oh how long…

How long had it been with this fever burning under his brow, like a drill driving into his head, this maddening urge… He wanted to cry or laugh. To cry with pleasure that he was still alive all these centuries. To laugh at the anger that was consuming him. He couldn't tell what emotion meant more. Life was pain. Athena may have lived on Olympus, but even she was wise enough to know that.

Had he been a man once? Or had he been a beast?

How long, oh how long…

He was hungry. He was always hungry. There was nothing to do but wander and wait and hope they kept him fed. Maybe they would slip up one day. How long would he have to wait? Just one day, one little slip, and he could roam about as he pleased. Smell the flowers. Smell anything but mildew and dirt and sweat and blood. He could be free, smell the crisp air, smell fresh screams…

Screams do have a smell. It's peculiar to describe. Each one was different, delicious to relish. A slight high pitch with a note of panic was as divine as ambrosia.

How long, oh how long…

This round was near its end. He was losing interest in toying with the most recent sacrifice. A whiff caught him surprise. A new human had entered, a new little plaything. Maybe he would save one for later. And when they were gone boredom would set in again.

Every day was a contradiction. He ate but he was always hungry. He was alive but inside he was dead. He wanted freedom but he didn't want to leave his home. This curse that kept him… How long, oh how long would he endure it?

Footsteps drew near.

Not much longer.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

A tremor started to pound through the earth.

Despite himself, Dean's breath quickened. He was surprised at his reaction. He thought fear had left him. His heart started to beat, not out of adrenaline but panic. He felt a shiver run through him. Dean looked over at Sam and could see the same thing. They were both scared. "It'll be an easy kill." He whispered. He wasn't sure he was saying it too.

Sam looked at him. Without saying a word, he nodded curtly at Dean. It was the closest he could bring himself to saying goodbye. All he could think was; _I was supposed to have more time…_

The pounding of hooves was not far off. It wasn't just the footsteps that came as a warning. It was the putrid smoke that was creeping on the ground. Sam was reminded of all those times when he and Dean had dug up corpses. Dean thought it smelled like a funeral pyre, melting flesh and bones breaking. A deep raspy breath was coming around the corner.

The Minotaur was tall. It was nearly comic the way it stood hunched over, horns just barely scrapping the celling. He had the legs of a bison, strong powerful and sinewy with hooves. His torso was that of a man. Tight scared skin, muscled and dirty covered in years of grime. There was blood crusted over his chest, under his fingernails, and even some dribbling from his chin. The head was that of a bull. There was a scar across his face. A bite mark on his left ear. There was also burn marks on his wrists from chains. A similar burn mark ran around his neck. He grinned, his lips drawing back tightly over his gums revealing sharp jagged teeth meant for ripping.

Dean fired the first shot, missing by inches. He pierced his side, hitting between the ribs. If the Minotaur realized his lungs were filling with blood, he didn't feel it. He charged forward, bellowing rage. Sam shot next, hitting the Minotaur in the side.

The Minotaur roared in frustration. Few had dared challenge him over the years. No one in all that time had hit him with silver. It burned like acid. It made his skin itch. They had to be killed quickly for their sins. He reached Dean and backhanded him across the face. Dean flew into the stone wall with a loud _smack. _The vines quivered.

Dean's breath came in ragged breaths. Something was wrong, but that would have to wait. He had to find his gun, had to keep the Minotaur focused on _him _while Sam aimed. Dean's eyes narrowed on the gun. He lurched forward in an awkward dive for the gun. As his hands curled around the handle he twisted away. There was only so much space in the hallway.

Just enough for the beast to step on his outstretched left hand. Dean cried out in agony.

Sam was firing shots. Each one echoed like ghostly whispers. _Miss miss miss _they laughed. He hit the beast in its chest, stomach, shoulder… It was moving too quickly, twisting. The Minotaur lifted its hoof off of Dean's hand and turned to him, eyes the color of flame.

Dean fought to control his breathing. He flexed his right hand, still working, and clutched the gun. He forced himself up and leveled the gun. "I hope you drown in the Styx." He hissed as he pulled the trigger.

The Minotaur was breathing heavily. How long, oh how long, he wondered would the silver stay in his wounds agonizing. His heart beat was slowing down. He hesitated as he reached the tall one. In his hesitation the bullet pierced his left side just below his ribs. The Minotaur did not fall. Myths do not go so easily. He huffed and lurched toward Sam. Sam fired his last two shots.

The Minotaur could do nothing except collapse into the dirt. It hurt so bad, burned him to his core… but he felt a sweet release in his dying breath. No one was meant to live for so long. Our lives are brief, and this is simply the way things are.

Dean looked up at Sam and smiled.

**Go to chapter elven. Don't kvetch, you have no choice so just _go. _**


	9. Spell

**Chapter Nine: Spell**

Dean knelt down and looked at the thread. "Okay," he said slowly, forming his words carefully. "I have a question…"

_Thrill me. _

"What spell holds the diner together?"

_Ah, and that's the true riddle. The Minotaur's blood._

Sam looked at Dean and raised one eyebrow. He cleared his throat. "Uh, Isabella, how do we…"

_Listen. There once was a king. Truly vindictive. A wrath to match Zeus. _

"And where did you fit in?" Dean said leaning forward.

_He ordered a maze built. A sacrifice would be made to the beast inside. _

"But why would Daedalus build such a thing?"

_He would never if it wasn't for…Just…focus. The Minotaur's appetite was too great. His blood kept it alive. _

"Why can't you leave?" Sam asked quietly.

_If the King was to be cursed by the maze, so should we. He prayed to any god who would listen._

Dean looked to Sam. He wasn't sure what to ask next. Sam was silent, thinking it through.

_Please._ Isabella rearranged herself. _Spill his blood. Hurt him. Stab his heart. _

"How?" Dean pressed.

_His left side, under his ribs. May Hades have mercy on our souls._

"Thank you." Sam said, picking her up gently. She pulled herself together in the palm of his hand. He tucked her into his pocket. "Well, I guess we got a lead."

Dean smirked. "Plus one for team Winchester."

"I just wish you'd brought a burger down with you." Sam said mournfully as he took the lead. They headed right down the pathway, trying not to notice the vines that moved with them. "How long have I been down here anyway?"

Dean shrugged. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Time was beaten like a man on the alter; sacrificed for him to have a continuing sacrifice. Time was a wounded creature that limped and dragged its beaten corpse down the dirt corridors, begging to die. Time would not end. No, not here, Zeus forbid _here_. Time cried out in agony and as it lay dying it laughed at him. It always laughed at him. Asked him how much longer he could endure the madness.

He often answered. Often laughed, and often screamed. It was entirely possible he was going mad. He had proven that anything was possible with a little magic. This place was proof. Had he not shed blood here and asked to always have this power? Power was only worth so much in here. He needed to get out. Just one day, one little slip, and he could roam about as he pleased. Smell the flowers. Smell anything but mildew and dirt and sweat and blood. He could be free, smell the crisp air, smell fresh screams…

Screams do have a smell. Not many people take the time to notice and it makes much harder to describe. Each one was different, delicious to relish. A slight high pitch with a note of panic was as divine as ambrosia.

There was a new smell. That meant there was a new play thing about. He felt a twinge of excitement. He was almost at an end to his most recent quarry. And then he would feast and his belly would be full. And then what?

He would wait and wait and pray to Olympus above for release.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"What if we're never released?"

"Don't even say it Sam." Dean hissed. He turned suddenly at a small noise. He relaxed and turned back to Sam. "I found you. I found an exit. We're practically golden."

"Yeah, you're kinda missing a detail there." Sam replied as his eyes scanned the shadows coming from the turns up ahead. He jumped a little when he felt the ground start to shake.

"Speak of the devil." Dean groaned.

Each footfall came a little closer. Dean and Sam raised their guns. The smell came through the air, dragging with the Minotaur's steps like a scorned lover. It was so thick, Dean felt like he could taste it. He was nauseated by it, the way it smelled like a body on a funeral pyre. Sam wrinkled in his disgust. It smelled like a ripe corpse to him.

The Minotaur came around the corner, snarling. It was nearly comic the way he stood hunched over, horns just barely scrapping the celling. He had the legs of a bison, strong powerful and sinewy with hooves. His torso was that of a man. Tight scared skin, muscled and dirty covered in years of grime. There was blood crusted over his chest, under his fingernails, and even some dribbling from his chin. The head was that of a bull. There was a scar across his face. A bite mark on his left ear. There was also burn marks on his wrists from chains. A similar burn mark ran around his neck. He grinned, his lips drawing back tightly over his gums revealing sharp jagged teeth meant for ripping.

Despite his training, Dean felt fear rise up his spine. He fired his gun at the Minotaur just as Sam did. They both rained on his torso. At least two shots hit the Minotaur in his side. The Minotaur roared and charged toward Sam. Dean pushed his brother out of the way, taking the brunt of the tackle.

The Minotaur pushed him to the ground, slamming his head against the floor. He stood up and faced Sam. Sam shot the Minotaur again in the side. They bullets hit his heart. The Minotaur flinched, trying to hide the pain that was covering his body. The silver bullets burned under his skin like acid. He growled, willing himself to fight. Nothing could hurt him. Hundreds, thousands, had tried. He punched at the wall. Breaking the block of stone next to Sam's head.

Sam didn't move but dared to glance at his brother. Dean was already waking up and looking for his gun. The Minotaur eyed him hungrily, trying to decide how to kill the strange human he had pinned. His hot breath scorched Sam's skin.

"Hey, horn head!" Dean yelled.

The Minotaur turned to growl at him. Dean shot him between the eyes. It hit the Minotaur with such force he stumbled back two steps. He couldn't hide the pain that was boiling inside anymore. His heart was pierced so many times with silver that he was losing focus. There was a grey quality to his vision. He snorted and tried to charge but instead fell to his knees.

As he hit the dirt a small cloud of dust rose up in triumph. Each of his last breaths was painful. A little bit of him was relieved to finally have found relief. When he died, the Fates greeted his spirit with open arms. One sister turned to look back at the brothers as they faded away and shook her head sadly.

Dean didn't see them, he was to busy smiling up at Sam.

**_Go to chapter elven. What? Don't look at me like that. You're alive. Just, just go. _**


	10. One Last Riddle

**Chapter Ten: One Last Riddle**

I do love you, brother.  
>I was so angry at first…<br>So furious, so trapped,  
>Feeling betrayed and hurt..<p>

But I was convoluted,  
>Forced into this change.<br>All these years boiling,  
>Little humanity remains.<p>

Another hero comes  
>He brought his brother, too.<br>Dean's so protective…  
>He reminds me of you.<p>

You know all too well  
>That nothing good lasts.<br>We will always be haunted  
>By our tattered past.<p>

Do you remember that day?  
>Do you remember the fire?<br>Do you remember how we  
>Suffered by a King's desire?<p>

I'm so tired, Icarus.  
>So frayed, and now again<br>He comes around the corner  
>And again, he finds their end.<p>

There's so much blood  
>Wrapped around my spool.<br>I used to wonder why  
>We were made into fools.<p>

But it doesn't matter now.  
>I'm trapped, barely alive.<br>I'm so tired of trying  
>To keep these heroes alive.<p>

I hope you know,  
>My anger is gone.<br>I hope you understand  
>This last little song.<p>

I'm so tired. So worn.  
>But there must be a loophole<br>A chance in those moments  
>When his belly his full.<p>

I will wind around his ankles.  
>I will crawl around his neck.<br>I will make the Minotaur pay  
>For the families he has wrecked.<p>

It will take every fiber I possess  
>To wind so tightly around<br>That monster that should  
>Have been buried in the ground.<p>

I should have moved sooner.  
>But I hope you never forget-<br>I love you. I love Dad.  
>There will be only ashes left.<p>

My riddle is done.  
>I've done my last deed.<br>It's just a shame that  
>It took so long to succeed.<p>

**_the end _**


	11. Blood On the Stone

**Chapter Eleven: Blood on the stone**

Sam walked over and kicked the Minotaur firmly in his ribs. Satisfied at the lack of movement he spit on it. Dean, still leaning against the wall, laughed a little. "Bet that wasn't in Dad's journal."

Sam felt relief wash over him. "We're gonna have tell Bobby about this one… think he'll be jealous?"

Dean pushed himself up with great effort and nodded. He took slow steps toward his brother. "Ugh, now we just have to retrace our steps to get out of here." He looked from the left and too the right. "Which is just gonna be a fucking picnic_._ Oh christ, look at that."

Blood began to ooze over the dirt, thick and awful. It poured like a river, twisting into spirals. Sam turned his attention from the blood and looked down at his pocket. There was a deep sort of hum coming from it. He pulled out the spool, and dropped it when he felt the sudden heat. It fell next to the body, splashing in the blood. The spool trembled and began to spin in circles. Dean looked at Sam with his eyebrows raised. Suddenly there was shock of power, like a thunder clap with no sound.

The spool rose into the air and began to unravel. As the string unfolded, a shape emerged. She couldn't have been older than fifteen. A loose green toga hung around her, hugging her young form. Long blonde tresses were loose on her shoulders. Her feet touched the ground and she gasped at the sensation. She held out her hands and flexed her fingers, savoring the ability to move again.

"Isabella?" Sam asked.

"Yes." She said quietly at first. She gasped at the sound of her voice and placed a hand on her throat. "Yes!" She smiled as her eyes lit up in pure joy. "I can _feel._ I'm free of those riddles and I can _feel._"

Dean took off his jacket and offered it to her. "Are you cold?"

She laughed at the idea. "No, no, I want to feel the air on my shoulders. Can you smell that? Oh, dear Zeus the world is beautiful." She stepped out of the blood and walked forward past the brothers. "I remember this maze." Isabella looked around. "Yes, yes, Dad did have a sense of humor. You can see it if you look just closely…" She clapped her hands. "Let's go find them."

Dean leaned on Sam and began to follow her through the twisting corridor. They didn't notice the shaking at first, with the little pebbles skirting across the dirt. Dean assumed it was just the adrenaline wearing off. His bones ached, and he could tell by Sam's footsteps that he was also injured. Isabella stopped short and looked at them. "Do you feel that?"

Sam looked up at the ceiling. "Uh…something's happening…"

Cracks were growing above them. Water started to drop down, dripping slowly at first. Dean stared at it for a minute, trying to vocalize his thoughts. Nothing was easy. That lesson had come somewhere between the gun training and the sparring. "Is that…"

In answer to the unspoken question, the first bit of the ceiling fell next to him. The water began to pour and fill up the corridor. "We need to find cover!" Isabella gasped, running ahead of them.

Dean ran as fast as he could, allowing the pain to push him forward. Sam ran on shaky legs, and kept telling himself that they were close. Isabella rounded the next corner and paused as she stared at the wall. The bloody letters that Sam had seen when he'd first arrived where now mocking them. Isabella restrained herself from crying. "I remember him," she said softly. "He didn't last long."

Sam pulled on her arm. "We need to keep moving."

The walls began to shake, sending stones clattering. They made splashing noises into the muddy river growing under their feet. She pointed ahead at the wide opening. "There's the trap door." She looked at Dean. "Can you hold me steady while I open it?"

"Sure." Dean looked up at the trapdoor. Sam stood next to him, keeping an eye on the surrounding dangers. The vines on the walls were twisting, silently screaming. Dean wrapped his arms around her waist and held her up. He took a firm stance, but he knew he couldn't hold her up for long.

Isabella put her hands on the door and whispered in Greek. _"You've served us well. He's dead."_

The chain on the other side moved slowly, untangling itself from the door handles. Once cleared, the door flew open. She grabbed onto the edge and hauled herself up. She looked down on Dean and Sam. "Can you guys make it up, ok?

Sam jumped and grabbed the edge. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up. Sam held out a hand to Dean. Dean took it, but let out a cry when Sam tugged. "Damnit, I think it's broken." He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Just a minuet more…" Sam pulled him up.

As Dean fell onto the wet grass he breathed a sigh of relief. Below them, the maze continued to collapse. The sides of the diner were showing signs of strain. Dean laid on the grass, taking deep gulping breaths. "Sam," he groaned, "please don't ever get kidnapped into a maze again."

"Because I definitely did that on purpose." Sam snapped as he helped him up. They both looked to Isabella for further instruction.

She shrugged. "I don't know what happens next."

They heard the clanging of the kitchen door swing open and turned. Isabella ran towards the noise. "Dad?" she cried out.

"My daughter," he smiled for the first time in decades. He greeted her with open arms.

Icarus came out soaking in blood. "It really is done." He smiled at his sister. "The King is dead, and the monster can't tether us here anymore."

Isabella's cheeks were stained with tears. "I missed you so much."

Dean stepped forward. "Do you know what happens next?"

Icarus glared at him. "Next? What always happens when you fly to close to the sun, you get burned. Haven't we paid enough?" He looked up at the sky and smiled. "And here we go."

There was a large cracking noise as the foundation of the building broke and sunk into the building. The walls tumbled into each other. It looked like a massacre under the rosy tendrils of early dawn light. The sun began to climb with Helios' chariot leading the way. As the light came over the family their skin began to crack and peel like parchment. Isabella looked over at Sam. "Thank you." She smiled.

Daedalus kissed his daughter on the top of her head. The sun's light took them, and they faded into myth. Sam looked at Dean, exhaustion etched into his face. "Please tell me you have food waiting for me."

"Kinda dropped the takeout when I saw you're missing." Dean shrugged. "Let's go find a motel. I need a shower." He looked up as the Impala came into sight and groaned. "And the window's still great. Awesome."

Sam grinned and walked around to the other side of the car. He brushed broken glass from his side with his torn hoodie. He slid into the seat. "Just get in already. I need that motel just as bad as you do."

Dean leaned back in his seat, enjoying the moment off his feet. He shut the car door and then stuck the keys into the ignition. The Impala roared to life, ready to carry them to their next port. Sam already had his eyes shut, leaning back in the seat. Dean smiled. Tonight, they had lived. They'd avoided death another day, and that brought them one day closer to the end of his year. Well, you couldn't have everything.

As they drove away, the Fates watched them.

"In the past they were unstoppable, a true team." The first one lamented.

"But now," the second one let out a deep breath of concern "they have their doubts and these things will only get worse."

"Don't worry, sisters." The third said, polishing their eyeball tenderly. "Death will come and go, things will only get better from here." Even as she said the words, she could steel feel the storm brewing.

The Fates moved on to tie up loose ends.

**_The end_**


End file.
